


The Jackal's Mark

by FruitofSorrow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassination, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Violence, Consensual Sex, Conspiracy, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, M/M, Making ends meet, Martial Arts, Mystery, Politician Kageyama Tobio, Secret Organizations, Self-Doubt, hyperosmia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitofSorrow/pseuds/FruitofSorrow
Summary: To all the world, Hinata Shouyo is a hard-working young man trying to put his younger sister through college. Those who lurk in the shadows know him as a highly-skilled assassin trained in the usage of lethal weapons. With his heightened ability to compartmentalize, Shouyo has been able to keep his public and private lives separate, but when he is tasked with the murder of a man his sister idolizes-- a man who has been doing good work to provide for the Japanese people--he is suddenly faced with a moral dilemma.To kill or not to kill.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	1. Drastic Measures

October 1st, 2022 

Tokyo

12:51 pm

As he exited the office, Hinata Shouyo was hit with a thick wall of lemon-pine scent that made him lightheaded and had him bracing himself against the doorframe.

"Saito-san," said a passive voice from the room behind him. "Could you come back to clean the windows later?"

The old janitor looked up, disinfectant spray in one hand and a rag in the other, and nodded gingerly before setting them down and wheeling his cart to the elevator on the other end of the corridor.

Shouyo released an arrhythmic breath and turned on his heel to face his savior. 

“Thanks.”

The tall man pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and crossed his arms. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah. Of course. Just a little sensitive to certain smells.”

"I know. That's not what I asked," he said, gaze probing Shouyo with an intensity that made the ginger recoil despite himself. 

Even though the last thing he wanted was to crumble under Tsukishima Kei's scrutiny, deep down, Shouyo knew there was no way he'd beat the persistent bastard in a staring contest. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Shouyo repeated, and the words rang false in his ears. 

"I'd like to believe that, but you just had me check over all of your bank accounts. Either you're finally moving out of that ratty apartment, or you're preparing for something else, and knowing your line of work…"

“Are you worried about me?” Shouyo cooed, playful. “How sweet.”

Tsukishima pursed his lips. “You’re deflecting.”

"And you,” he said, jabbing his index finger into Tsukishima’s chest, “are nosy and a worrywart."

Tsukishima's mouth opened and closed uselessly before settling into a harsh line, and the conversation died just like that. 

The tension Shouyo felt in his shoulders ebbed. “I appreciate all of your help, Kei. I’m counting on you to do as we discussed.”

Tsukishima placed one foot in front of the other and broke into the shorter man's bubble. Shouyo watched, unsure, as the blond dropped both hands on his shoulders. "Promise you'll be careful," he told him, and Shouyo couldn't help but laugh awkwardly.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Just promise me,” Tsukishima said with more force. There was an annoyingly sage glimmer in his eyes. “Don’t go doing anything stupid.”

The words made Shouyo bristle.

If he had been a regular guy with a mundane secret, Shouyo’s heart might've skipped a few beats, and his palms would've started to sweat. He might've even wondered if Tsukishima had somehow realized the reason for his unexpected office visit. But Shouyo wasn't any regular citizen. He didn't work a nine-to-five job, didn't go out with his coworkers for drinks after work, didn't take the weekends off, or plan vacations months in advance. He didn't date, didn't make friends, and didn't make commitments because Hinata Shouyo was always on the move, always hustling, and always on his toes. Hinata Shouyo was the smoke that slipped between your fingers. He knew what lines to tap, what strings to pull, and which doors to open, and he did it all under the radar.

Hinata Shouyo was, to put it simply, an enigma. An actor with a thousand faces who could get away with just about anything, including lying to the people he cared about most.

Shouyo’s lips stretched wide. “We got a little problem there.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “ _More_ stupid than usual, I mean.”

“I can’t do that.” Shouyo shrugged. “ _Stupid_ might as well be my first name.”

Tsukishima's face froze in that way Shouyo had become familiar with after knowing the public accountant for over three years. When they first met, their interactions tended to be primarily nonverbal, but over time, the cold professionalism between them thawed away, making room for something kinder, more intimate to blossom. A few days ago, Shouyo wouldn't have said they were friends, but seeing the concern on Tsukishima's face, he realized just how comfortable they'd become. How much Shouyo had come to rely on him. Tsukishima had had his back more times than he could count. And if he was completely frank, the development scared him.

Shouyo placed a hand over one of Tsukishima’s and squeezed reassuringly. "Thanks for worrying. It means a lot."

“Yes, but—” Tsukishima started to say, but words failed him. Instead, the perturbed man averted his gaze, a crease settling in his brow.

“I’ll be back next week.” _Hopefully_.

Sensing his hesitance, Tsukishima searched Shouyo’s face one last time. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he stepped back and dropped his hands. Tsukishima cleared his throat. “Make an appointment next time. It drives me crazy when you drop by unannounced.”

Shouyo stifled a laugh. “That I can do.”

With a two-fingered salute, Shouyo bade him farewell and made his way down the hall to catch the elevator. Behind him, Tsukishima's office door shut closed with a final click, and Shouyo's smile disappeared. 


	2. Two Days Earlier

September 29th, 2022 

Tokyo

8:59 am

-Two Days Earlier-

There was a bounce in his step as he made his way to the receptionist’s desk on the first floor of the Black Jackals Security Agency. Shouyo twirled his car keys on one finger and tipped his head in greeting to Meian, who sat in his swivel chair with all the comfort in the world. His feet were propped up on the counter like he owned it. 

“Hey, Shouyo!” the older man said, nose still buried in a sports magazine.

"Hey," Shouyo said and took the keycard that Meian had held out to him without looking up. Immediately, he noticed the printed band that ran across the top of the card. "It's a blue week."

“Yup. New assignment.”

“You don’t sound very interested.”

“After five years at this job, nothing really surprises me anymore.” Meian shrugged. “I can’t imagine this one will be any different. Have fun, though." 

The older man waved him off, and Shouyo chuckled. _Classic Meian_ , he thought as he carded himself into the elevator and slumped against the wall. He breathed out steadily. 

_It’s a blue week._

Each week, Black Jackals employees received a new card. Green ones were the standard, given to members whose statuses remained idle. Blue cards were handed to those with new or pending assignments. And Red cards, which came rarely, were for those with high priority cases. Different colors granted employees access to specific doors and files within the Agency. It was a matter of interest. As a firm that purportedly dealt in security, all details on clients and cases were kept under wraps and could only be accessed by select personnel. While a Green card allowed one to walk through the company halls, a Blue card offered limited access to its secure database. Red cards gave the holder unlimited access to the database and the vehicle hangar, which was a pretty nifty resource. The boss was usually pretty stingy when it came to handling the expensive equipment. Then there were Gray cases, which entailed more secrecy than Blue cases, but weren't as urgent as the Red ones.

The door dinged, alerting Shouyo to his arrival at the top floor. As soon as he stepped off the lift, he inhaled cautiously to check for any acrid or chemical scents. He hummed satisfactorily when he deemed the air breathable. The next time he saw him, he'd have to thank Kenma for ensuring that the cleaning crew only used organic products.

“Shouyo!”

Shouyo turned his head to find the familiar voice owner and saw Oikawa bounding over to him. The man was well-dressed as always in dark jeans and a comfortable turtleneck, and his hair was slicked back just the way he liked it. With a fond but annoyed sigh, Shouyo wondered if it was even possible to find the man in a less than flawless state.

“I thought you were on vacation.”

Oikawa put his hands on his hips and jutted his chin out as though to brag. "Haha. I am! I just stopped by to have a word with the man upstairs. Can't have the Agency combusting as soon as I get on that plane!"

Shouyo laughed. “It’ll be a nightmare without you here to keep us in check.”

"Of course, it will. Nobody can talk the boss out of stupid shit like I can, though I guess if you're here, things won't get so bad."

“You think so?”

Oikawa’s lips curled. “You’ve got the man wrapped around your little finger. I’m confident that if you asked for a Red case, he’d give you the best one on the spot.”

Shouyo's jaw tightened; his brow furrowed. As renowned as he was in the Agency, few people could say they knew Hinata Shouyo very well. As far as anyone knew, he was methodical, ruthless, detached, and had the most prolific Red case track record after Oikawa. It was a fairly common misconception, and yet, Shouyo didn't have any interest in correcting it. 

Oikawa assessed him with sharp, experienced eyes, and Shouyo thought he may have read his mind. Nothing ever seemed to get past him. Nothing.

“Ah, right,” he said finally, dropping his arms and his bravado. “You’re just here to make a little pocket money; I get it. Leave those Red cases for the big, hardened boys. I’ll be back to pick up the slack around here before you know it.”

The tension in Shouyo's shoulders melted away. As cocky and devil-may-care as Oikawa could be, he was also the Agency's top player—the guy who got the job done when nobody else was up for the task. His years of experience in the field and at the company spoke for themselves. Not to mention that everything Shouyo knew about handling firearms and knives came from watching him work firsthand. During Shouyo’s first few months at the Agency, Oikawa took him under his wing and mentored him personally. According to Kenma, it was something the older man had never had an interest in doing before. It made Shouyo wonder if he was special. What had Oikawa seen in him?

“You’d better. We need you here.”

“Ah,” Oikawa said, wiping away an invisible tear from his eye. “I’m going to miss our daily hallway get-togethers.”

Shouyo laughed. 

“Well, I have to go pick up the hubby at work. Talk to you soon, shorty. Do me a favor and raise some hell while I’m gone.”

"What happened to making sure the agency stayed intact?"

“I changed my mind,” Oikawa said, patting Shouyo’s shoulder on his way to the elevator. “Now that I think about it, that jerk needs a little shaking up.” 

Shouyo managed to catch Oikawa's mischievous wink before the doors closed. It was hard to tell if the older man was jerking his chain sometimes. Oikawa had a knack for saying severe things most ironically, so as a rule of thumb, Shouyo had decided long ago to take ninety-percent of everything he said figuratively. If Oikawa told him to set the Agency on fire, it wasn't like he expected Shouyo to light the first match. Instead, he meant that he should sit back and watch the already burning building come down. In other words: _do nothing to put it out_. It was a sadistic characterization of him, but Oikawa didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he reveled in it.

Shouyo shook his head. There were more pressing matters to contend with than analyzing Oikawa Tooru's quirks. His new case, for one. Just thinking about going out on the field again put Shouyo on edge. Pre-assignment jitters. That's what Kenma called them. Shouyo had been learning how to control them for years, but it wasn't something that ever really went away. Sometimes, when he was good, he could push the nerves down and get straight to work. But once in a while, when all the wrong conditions were met, they flared, and he suffered from mild psychotic breakdowns that others mistook as mere bursts of impulsivity and brashness. When he got that way, Shouyo became more efficient at his job, but he was also more likely to lose sight of the big picture. 

“Ok,” he said, wringing his hands and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "Let's get this over with.

Atsumu Miya's modestly sized office was at the very end of the corridor. Though Atsumu was the official boss on paper, he and Kenma had actually co-founded the Agency together, and when push came to shove, the genius hacker simply needed the extra space more than he did.

Shouyo’s gaze roamed the room, taking in the miscellaneous clutter on everything from the bookcases lining the wall to the floor itself. He couldn’t even see the carpet anymore. 

_Was there a carpet?_

The only semi-organized surface was the top of Atsumu's desk, which was bare save for a laptop, a cardboard filer, and a relic from Atsumu's past as a medical student: a perfectly cared for set of surgical tools. Shouyo had seen the man open letters with the scalpel on more than one occasion. Behind him, on the window sills, was a modest lineup of volleyball trophies that had been polished needlessly. 

“My angel has come to visit!” Atsumu said, jumping out of his seat and running to pull Shouyo into a slimy embrace. 

Shouyo rolled his eyes and slid his hands up between them to push the overly affectionate man away, but Atsumu barely budged. 

Atsumu flashed him a smile, hearts pouring from his eyes. “How is my sunshine today? Are you well-rested? Have you had breakfast? Do you want something to eat?”

"Last I checked, we're not running a breakfast diner, Tsumu," Shouyo admonished. "And anyway, what's the matter with you? You're acting strange, even for _you_.”

Atsumu's eyes crinkled forcefully, which meant only one thing. The boss wanted something. It wasn’t anything new, but if he thought that he would get it by simply dialing up the flirtation levels, he was mistaken. In any case, it wasn't like Shouyo was a tough customer. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for the Agency.

Shouyo’s eyes narrowed.

Then this had to be one of those things. But what? He thought he could cross off going on a date with Atsumu—turning on high levels of cringe-worthy courtship wasn't his usual M.O. His boss liked grand gestures: bouquets of flowers, handwritten cards, and spontaneous pay raises—the endearing bastard. Shouyo almost felt bad for turning him down every time.

That only left one other possibility.

Shouyo stepped back to analyze the man’s nervous stare. He stretched his fingers again, feeling the pleasant tension in his joints, and Atsumu flinched. 

There it was—his tell.

“I’m not doing it.”

“But Sho—”

“I said no,” he said more sternly. “That was the only condition I gave Kenma when I agreed to come on board. I said I’d do the Blue cases, heck, even some _Gray_ ones, but under no circumstance would I agree to a Red case. I have a family to look after."

“You said your sister was doing well at university.”

“Yes, because she doesn’t _know_ how it is that her big brother can afford to pay her tuition,” Shouyo said through gritted teeth. “If something happened to me—”

"Nothing will," Atsumu said, ice seeping into his tone. Shouyo watched as his boss's eyes turned dark, and the muscles in his face tensed up. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Shouyo inhaled deeply. “I’m not putting Natsu at risk. That’s my final word. Ask someone else. Maybe Sakusa can—”

“I can’t ask him; he’s on assignment.”

"Then, Tomas."

“He’s abroad.”

“Well, then I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to turn that client down.”

Atsumu ran a shaky hand through his hair and turned back around to slam both palms on his desk. The lines of his back were rigid.

For the first time in forever, Shouyo felt afraid of him.

“What if I told you the pay was three-million yen,” Atsumu said, low.

Shouyo’s heart stopped. _Three-million?_

“That’s more than enough for your sister’s tuition. You’ll even be able to finally afford a nicer place. Maybe even finish your car payments.”

Shouyo swallowed thickly. He couldn't wrap his mind around having that kind of money at his disposal. Not only that, but he'd also no longer have a reason to stay at the Agency. He'd be able to quit and move on to better things, like getting a job that Natsu would actually be proud of. 

_A job I won’t have to lie about._

He’d been making just enough for them to scrape by, but with Natsu considering postgrad studies, Shouyo wasn't sure their current arrangement would last. Sooner or later, the payments would catch up with them.

“I—I’m listening.”

Atsumu’s shoulders dropped. He walked around to sit in his chair, and wordlessly pulled a folder from the top drawer. He tossed it on the table and leaned back with hands laced together.

Shouyo eyed the red folder for a moment before mustering the courage to look through it. Finally, he acquiesced and took the seat opposite Atsumu.

“Am I allowed to know who hired us?”

“Not this time.”

Shouyo nodded, trying to not show anything on his face. Atsumu had a way of latching onto his prey at the slightest sign of interest, and not letting it go only so that he could see it flail and wriggle. He was cruel and sadistic that way.

Shouyo braced himself and opened the folder, and when he saw the photograph paper-clipped to the top file, his breath hitched.

“ _Him?”_ He shot Atsumu an incredulous look.

Atsumu shrugged. “It’s not our place to ask questions. We get a name, we execute the task, and we get paid. That’s all.”

“Yeah, but—”

Shouyo looked back down at the file. The man in the photograph had dark hair and wore a black three-piece suit. He looked austere and important, but a certain aura about him made Shouyo's heart constrict. This man…he knew him. Not personally, but as a public figure. A genius politician who was making headlines as the new hope of the Constitutional Democratic Party. 

He gripped the folder tighter. This was why he didn’t take the Red cases. 

_But the money._

“Normally, I’d give you a day to think about your answer, but the client demanded an express package and needs confirmation by today.”

“What’s the rush?”

Atsumu shrugged. “How should I know?”

Shouyo bit his lip. His eyes darted to the man in the photo and then back to Atsumu.

_Don’t think about it. You’re good at compartmentalizing. This will be just like the others._

“Alright. But I want a bonus.”

Atsumu let out choked laughter. "You got it." He sounded relieved.

At least one of them felt light. Shouyo was the one who actually had to perform the deed. 

“But,” he said, grim, “this will be the last time.”

Atsumu nodded vigorously. “Of course. From now on, no more Red cases.”

"No. I mean, this will be my last assignment. After this, I'm quitting."

Atsumu stared at him as though he’d suddenly grown two more heads, but there was no laughter in his eyes. Not even a glimmer of honest curiosity. He was completely blank. It was unsettling.

“We’ll discuss that later. For now, you need to see Kenma about the case. He’ll debrief you so you can start as soon as possible.”

Shouyo got to his feet and left the office without thanking Atsumu, for once. He was sure the gesture would irk his egocentric boss to no end, but he didn't care. He had nothing to thank Atsumu for. Not this time. Not while his blood roared in his ears, angered by his having complied so readily. For having abandoned the principles he vowed to hold onto, no matter what forces tried to tear his humanity from him.

Shouyo stopped in his tracks, his heart hammering away in his chest.

_This will be the last one,_ he said to himself as his shaky hand reached for the knob to Kenma’s office. 

_My last assassination._


	3. Debriefings and Caffeine

Shouyo pushed open the unlocked door, and light streamed into the dark room that'd previously been illuminated only by a dozen or so computer screens. They were everywhere on the tables and the walls, and Shouyo couldn't keep his eyes open, so he turned them toward the floor.

"Kenma," he said, and again, firmer when he got no response from the man clicking and typing away with an unshakeable focus.

The man pulled his communication device from his ear and swiveled around in his chair. When he saw Shouyo at his door, Kenma pushed a button on a controller to his right, and the overhead lights ignited, filling the room with a soft yellow glow.

When his eyes refocused, Shouyo immediately took in Kenma's dark circles and the messy, out-of-place strands of his dyed hair. Shouyo wondered what had happened to have made them that way. It wasn't until he saw what the man was wearing that all the pieces clicked into place.

"You've been pulling all-nighters again," Shouyo said, planting himself on a bean bag shoved carelessly to the side of the room. 

Kenma tilted his head ever so slightly to the side and eyed Shouyo intently.

Under his piercing scrutiny, the redhead couldn’t bring himself to make small talk. It was down to business as always. “Atsumu sent me,” he said at last. Then, taking a peek at the screen behind Kenma’s head, added: “Did I interrupt something?”

"No. I was just playing a game," Kenma said, voice gravelly. He turned back to his screen. "So, I guess you took the Red case after all."

Shouyo nodded, lips pressed tightly. "Would I be here if I hadn't?"

Kenma was quiet for only a beat. "I guess I owe Atsumu a thousand yen then."

"Sorry."

"It's whatever," Kenma said as he exited out of his screen. He wheeled himself to another computer on his left, clicked on a folder twice, and a dozen files pulled open at once.

Shouyo let out a low whistle. That was a lot of information, though he couldn't exactly be surprised. Kageyama was a public figure—a politician. In his experience, men like him were always the dirtiest, most prolific targets. They always had someone somewhere trying to get even with them. Though he had to admit, he'd never took Kageyama for the type. If someone had hired a hitman to take him out, he probably had some dirt on him, too.

Shouyo's fingers curled into his palm. He would rather believe that over the alternative.

"Kageyama Tobio was born into a middle-class family, currently lives alone, and has no known romantic partners," Kenma said like he was speaking to a room full of people. "He's the youngest member of the House of Representatives at twenty-five years old and is currently in the first year of his term. His political stance is progressive, making him the unfortunate object of the older generation's scorn. Despite that, he's very popular amongst his peers and has an overall favorable opinion with the public. It's his goal to one day assume a Cabinet position."

Shouyo nodded, making sure to keep mental tabs on every detail. On the surface, some of it might seem extraneous, but Kenma wouldn't have put anything in the report he couldn't use on his assignment.

"What about his day-to-day?"

"I'm getting to that." Kenma clicked on another file. "A few months ago, Kageyama hired a personal bodyguard out of the blue. He's rarely been seen out in public without him. Our intel tells us that the man, Takanobu Aone, has a contract with Adlers Security Firm. He's renowned in the field as the "iron wall." Getting past him won't be easy."

"Duly noted."

"Kageyama has an office here in Tokyo, but he travels a lot to other towns in the prefecture for work. For now, you should stay within the metropolitan area. You'll have the best odds of marking him there." 

_Click._

"On weekdays, he works from eight to four, and on Saturdays from nine to one. When he's not clocking over-time, he'll sometimes hit the gym a couple of blocks from his apartment before heading home. As for close acquaintances, my sources tell me he doesn't have many, save for his assistant-slash-secretary, and a colleague by the name of Ushijima Wakatoshi."

"Sounds like a very dull guy."

Kenma nodded, oddly sullen. "I know. And coming from me that's saying something."

"Here, we all thought you were the most hermitic person alive." Shouyo laughed.

Without responding to that, Kenma opened up another spread of images. In the first, a suited Kageyama Tobio was exiting a government building and had his phone pressed to one ear. He looked rushed, eyes up, and alert. Whoever took the photo had probably hidden across the street, possibly in a stationary vehicle. 

In the second photo, a tall man with white hair trailed behind Kageyama at what looked to be a dinner party. At almost twice Shouyo's mass, he wished he was colleagues with the guy and not temporary adversaries.

“That is Takanobu Aone.”

_I figured_.

Shouyo swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Do we have an explanation for the new security detail?"

Kenma looked thoughtful like he was in the middle of solving a jigsaw puzzle, and several of the pieces were missing. 

"There _was_ a rumor a while back, but I—" 

"A rumor? About what?"

Kenma gave him an admonishing look. "You're not allowed to know beyond what's in these files. The only thing you need to focus on is getting past Kageyama Tobio's defenses so you can eliminate him."

Shouyo flinched. How could Kenma say it so calmly? Granted, their company illicitly offered assassination services under the guise of personal security. He should've become immune to the cold-hearted, detached way things were run, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Something deep in his gut told him that he needed to be on high alert. After all, he had zero experience working in Red cases. The people Shouyo had killed in the past were thieving, murderous scum not worthy of being called human. The same as the gunk you scraped from the bottom of your shoes.

Kageyama Tobio—well, he had no idea what he was like. That was precisely the problem. 

"I don't need to remind you that discretion is paramount here. Under no circumstance can you leave a trail that might lead back to the firm and our client. The kill will have to be quick and efficient."

"With that bodyguard around, it'll take me longer than most cases."

Kenma sighed. "Red cases usually do."

"How long do I have?"

"A week at most. The client was very particular about this."

Shouyo bit his tongue before he asked a question he knew he wouldn't get an answer to. Though Kenma had claimed to like having Shouyo around, he didn't think he'd break protocol even for him.

"I assume I'll be getting the schematics for his building and apartment."

"You can access them on any computer with your Red card. Speaking of which," Kenma turned around and pulled a plastic card from his drawer. He handed it to him. "You can't take any files home with you, so make sure you read them thoroughly before leaving."

"Of course."

"Have a plan ready for tomorrow morning. Same time. Don't be late."

Shouyo stood to leave, eyes glued to the new card in his hands. It felt heavy. Like it might pull him right through the floor.

"Hey," Kenma said, disinterested.

Shouyo raised his head. "What's up?" 

"Do me a favor and bring me some coffee?"

Shouyo cracked a small smile. "You've already had what? Two cups? It's not even noon. You need to break this unhealthy addiction of yours."

"Yeah, yeah. I don't need a lecture from you. Kuroo gives me plenty. Just go grab me a cup, would you?" he said before going back to typing furiously on his keyboard.

Shouyo rolled his eyes. "Fine. But I'm making it decaf," he said and was gone before Kenma could argue back with him.


	4. Connections

September 29 th , 2022 

Tokyo

7:34 pm

Shouyo stared, unfocused, at the bamboo steamer on the stove. The sounds from the television in the other room filtered into the small but functional kitchenette.

Natsu had turned on the news channel and was chatting idly with their neighbor Tadashi about the activist group at her university. She'd been saying that she wanted to follow in one of her upperclassmen's footsteps and dabble in politics. Still, Natsu changed interests like she changed clothes: quickly, and to the trends. This week it was politics, but the next, it could be environmentalism or charity. 

Shouyo was proud of her for wanting to do good in the world, he truly was, but he sort of wished Natsu would just pick one thing and stick to it. What she lacked was a focus. 

That was why he’d been making increasing efforts to invite their neighbor over for dinner the past few weeks. Tadashi was a nice boy with a good head on his shoulders, and Shouyo thought that maybe spending more time around people like him would do Natsu some good. Hopefully, Tadashi’s study habits would rub off on her. He couldn’t think of anyone better than him, a member of the student government, to impart some of that scholarly wisdom to her. Tadashi was disciplined, smart, and on track to graduate early with honors. A stark difference to the party-fiends she usually associated with. 

He crossed his arms.

After all, it wasn’t beyond the scope of reason to think that Shouyo might not always be around to watch over her. Lately, he’d been giving that possibility a lot of thought.

Shouyo removed the lid from the steamer to check the veggies before moving onto the rice cooker. Finished. The mackerel he'd just seared was already set aside, resting. He hummed satisfactorily and pulled off his apron.

After their parents' death, Shouyo and Natsu had been left to fend for themselves. Even though it had been painful being orphaned that young, Shouyo somehow managed to assume the role of man of the house. The first thing he did was look for a job, which didn't take long, seeing how Shouyo had a stockpile of contacts who could hook him up. Then, when he had time, he learned to cook. It wasn't easy juggling finances and housework while attending university, but Natsu helped out where she could. During their first year alone, they'd had to move apartments twice, and Shouyo dropped some of his classes to make more time for work. It wasn't until Kenma offered him a job at the Black Jackals Agency that Shouyo started to earn enough money to finish his degree in sports management. It was a right turn for them, and for a while, Shouyo was content. Complacent, one might even say. 

He wondered at what point he started to feel differently.

Shouyo heaved a sigh and dragged a hand down his face. “Natsu, help me set the plates.”

After a moment, he heard what sounded like something knocking against wood and a low grunt of pain before Natsu rushed into the kitchen, nursing an injured elbow. 

“Be more careful, would you?”

“Yes, _dad,”_ Natsu said with a bite.

Shouyo rolled his eyes. “For someone so agile, you sure do get hurt a lot.”

"Pot calling the kettle black," she mumbled under her breath. Then loud enough for the house to hear: "You're always coming home with bruises on top of bruises."

Shouyo scratched the back of his neck. As much as he wanted to refute it, she was speaking the truth. Sustaining injuries was one of the many unlisted expectations in his line of work. Even Natsu knew to expect that much, though Shouyo would never tell her he got them offing targets in Tokyo's back alleys instead of protecting wealthy businessmen like he'd made her believe. 

“What were you and Tadashi talking about?” Shouyo said, quickly changing the subject.

Natsu’s lips did a funny thing before they settled in a firm line. “Not much. Politics.”

She didn’t say anything else. Shouyo eyed her curiously. He knew enough of his sister’s quirks to recognize when she was aching to spill her heart out. 

“Anything in particular?”

Natsu turned to him, plates in hand, with a curl in her lip. Shouyo braced himself.

"I asked him what political party he voted for this term, and he said CDP. I would have kicked him out otherwise," she said, fishing out some chopsticks from the drawer behind her. "But when he told me what representative he supported—"

Shouyo lifted a hand to stop her. “Cut to the chase, please,” he said. When Natsu got carried away, she could go on for hours.

At that moment, Tadashi entered the kitchen with a relaxed gait, only permissible of someone who'd been coming over to the Hinata household every week for three months.

“I voted for Ushijima-san.”

Shouyo’s brow raised. “I’m not too keen on this political stuff,” he admitted. He turned to Natsu, who had steam coming out of her ears. “Is he that bad?”

Natsu stomped on the tiled floor with the energy of a cranky chihuahua. “He’s not _bad._ He’s just competent. That’s the problem. He does the bare minimum of what his constituents expect from him. Unlike Kageyama Tobio, who—”

The hairs on Shouyo's nape stood on end. He did a double-take.

Surely, he misheard—

"Kageyama Tobio is a pretty boy with not a lot of real-world experience," Tadashi countered. "He's got potential, don't get me wrong, but he's got another ten years to go before he can catch up to the CDP's ace Ushijima Wakatoshi."

“ _Please,_ ” Natsu bemoaned. “At twenty-five years old, Kageyama has accomplished everything Ushijima set out to do by twenty-seven. Besides, nobody understands the people better than Kageyama does. He’s the only one challenging the status quo.”

Shouyo swallowed back the lump in his throat. “S-since when are you a fan of Kageyama Tobio?”

Natsu shrugged, a pout still on her lips. "I'm not just a cute face, you know. I like to think about important stuff, too. Besides, a senpai I met in activism club works in politics now. She told me all about how she landed a job as a member of his staff when she visited the university last semester. Kageyama is kind of like my hero now."

That little tidbit caught Shouyo’s attention. _Natsu knows someone close to Kageyama Tobio?_

Before he could ask, Tadashi peered over his shoulder and asked how long the vegetables had been steaming.

Shouyo jumped and scrambled to remove the basket from the stove. 

“I’ll take it,” Natsu said, bringing it to the counter. “Go sit down, nii-chan.”

Shouyo almost started to protest, but Natsu ushered him out of the kitchen. She and Tadashi began to serve portions of Shouyo's home cooking for all of them.

Shouyo slumped down in one of the chairs in front of the television; his legs suddenly felt heavy. The clashing voices of the pundits on TV became static background noise to him.

His sister knew about Kageyama Tobio. No, it was more than that. She _idolized_ him. It wasn't bad enough that Shouyo had reservations about murdering the guy, but now he had to contend with his conscience . What would Natsu think if she found out that her big brother had been assigned to kill her idol?

“Hey, are you alright?” Natsu said, peering in on him from the kitchen. 

Shouyo tilted his face in her direction and mustered the brightest smile in his artillery. His mouth felt like cracking cement. “You forgot the mackerel,” he said, noticing the mounds of greens that overflowed on the plates. Behind her, Tadashi was carrying three small bowls of rice.

Natsu’s eyes rounded, and she turned back to Tadashi with an accusatory look. 

Shouyo stood. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.”

“Are you sure, nii-chan?”

Shouyo nodded and waved her off. 

Without any objections, Natsu shrugged and plopped down at the table. Tadashi followed suit.

When Shouyo was alone in the kitchen again, the small of his back pressed against the edge of the counter, he took his face in both hands, curled in on himself, and let out a ragged breath.

_Dissimulate, Shouyo. Put on the mask._

For a little while longer, he stood like that. The sounds from the living room seeping into his bubble. He could make out every word the host on the television was saying. He could even pick out a few words from the quiet banter continuing from earlier at the dinner table. Such mundane sounds in a not-so-normal household. 

Shouyo almost felt like he'd be intruding if he walked in now. But, oh, how much he wanted to. He wanted to have dinner with his sister and friends in peace without worrying about anything else.

It was frustrating, he thought, that after years of carrying out ruthless deeds, he refused to let go of the remaining humanity he had. It'd all be so much easier if he could stop caring. Could stop trying to be a good person when he was the farthest thing from it.

Natsu’s disgruntled chatter pierced his bubble of despair. Beyond the threshold, he caught a glimpse of her swaying orange ponytail as she threw her head back and laughed at something Tadashi said.

Shouyo’s chest swelled. 

He didn’t dare think what would’ve become of him if he didn’t have Natsu to keep him grounded. She was his reason for living. If anyone was worth subjecting himself to this much torture, it was her. The only person he had left in the world.


	5. On the Line

September 30th, 2022

Location Unknown

12:43 am

“The pieces are in motion…Yes, by the end of the week…No, Sir…I apologize…Yes…It will be done discreetly…Yes, Sir….I…I understand…I’ll keep you informed….Goodb—.”

The line went dead.

A man dressed in an elegant suit sat at his desk in a dark room—his only light source: a pale blue glow emanating from the screen of his discarded phone. The man slumped back in his leather chair and ran a wobbly hand through his dark tresses. He released a deep and drawn out sigh that shook in his chest like an aftershock. The real suspense had passed, and all that was left to do was wait. Should the fates smile down on him favorably, the greatest obstacle in his path would be eliminated by the end of the week. He and his superiors would finally be able to move forward with their plans.

He drummed his fingers on his thigh, pensive. _Kageyama Tobio._

His junior had been a thorn in his side even before the young politician got elected into office. It wasn’t his policies or overall favorable public approval ratings that irked him. Kageyama was a smug punk who thought he could waltz onto the scene and change the way things were run. It was absurd, the gall with which Kageyama behaved. Like he thought he was untouchable. A god who could smite his detractors with the mere pad of his thumb. It was time someone put him in his place—taught him what it was to be mortal like everybody else.

Or so believed the people pulling strings behind closed doors. Even if they didn’t say it, everybody knew that Kageyama was building up the momentum to achieve something great. To disrupt the social hierarchy and cast a shadow over the other parties of Japan. More frighteningly, to take power away from those who had held it for decades.

The man took his face in both hands. _It’s unacceptable._

The ideologies of his predecessors had been drilled into him since his youth; he knew what it’d mean for his position and future— _his family’s future_ —if Kageyama couldn’t be taken out of the picture for good. So then why…

Why was it so hard to do as he was told? He was a puppet. It wasn’t his job to think.

“Baby?” said a muffled voice outside his office door.

The man straightened in his chair, startled. “C-coming,” he responded. He grabbed his phone and pocketed it inside his coat before standing to open the large mahogany doors. In the hallway stood his fiancée— a woman with a heart-shaped face framed by straight brown hair. She was already dressed for sleep in her coral-colored silk teddy.

“What are you doing still awake?” the man said softly. He checked his watch. “It’s the middle of the night.”

The woman’s hands immediately went to her bloated belly. “We missed you. Why don’t you come to bed?”

The man bit his lip. There was still lots to be done before he could turn in for the night. He took a step forward to press a goodnight kiss to the woman’s cheek, but his legs wobbled before they could reach her. He caught himself on the doorway to avoid toppling over and bringing his pregnant girlfriend down with him.

“Are you alright?”

The man nodded briskly. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I guess I’m more worn out than I thought.” The man pushed the doors closed behind him and put on a smile for his lover. It had been a long day, but tomorrow would be worse. Maybe getting some sleep was his best option; it certainly beat the alternative: worrying.

“Let’s go,” he said and slipped an arm around her waist to guide her towards the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter; the next will be longer.   
> Kageyama chapter? Most likely.

**Author's Note:**

> I've made a twitter account(@FruitofSorrow) for anyone interested in semi-live updates for future Haikyuu fics. If you have fic requests to send my way, that would be the place to do it.  
> (๑°꒵°๑)･*♡


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